


Of me and him

by ca_te



Category: Death Note
Genre: M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-05
Updated: 2010-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-11 12:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ca_te/pseuds/ca_te
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written on 14th April 2009. This has been my first Mello/Near fic. Slight references to sex, but nothing too explicit. Spoilers. Written both from Mello's and Near's POV.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Of me and him

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chamyl](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=chamyl).



> Written on 14th April 2009. This has been my first Mello/Near fic. Slight references to sex, but nothing too explicit. Spoilers. Written both from Mello's and Near's POV.

He was our hero, he was our first love, and when he was taken away…when he was taken away from us, we were alone; we had only each other.

Standing in Roger's office, I looked straight into his face, my hands closed in fists. It was blank, fucking blank as always. I wanted to punch him so hard, to see blood colour that pale face, so similar to that of my first love.

That night was the first time I dreamt about Near. It's weird but I can't remember what I dreamt at all. The only think I knew is that I wanted to see him the morning after. And when I realized that, I had this incredible urge to throw up. It has always been like that between us, since we were two little brats, more hatred than love. Always.

Then I escaped from that place, to many memories, too many things that reminded me he was a thousand times better than me.

But when I met him again, when I looked at his face immersed in the gleaming light of the screens at the SPK headquarters, the hatred was still there. He didn't flinch in front of what my face had become. I couldn't admit it at the time but there was already this idiotic desire I have right now, the desire to crack his indifference open, like a nut.

The first time we…I can't say "the first time we made love", 'cause love was nowhere to be seen. Let's say the first time I had him, it was a fight. We both ended up with bruises and cuts; that's how I discovered that little thing was incredibly stubborn. I remember that for days after I often found myself gazing at this scratch he had left on my right arm. I was almost mesmerized. And the more he grew up, the more his eyes became darker, and huge, like his. Back then I didn't mind at all using him, using him to keep myself linked to the one who saved me, the one who taught me that I could be worth something.

We had grown up apart. He grew up in the secure bubble that was Whammy's and then he found himself in that huge building, surrounded by bodyguards and by his stupid toys. I grew up in the streets, with men trying to do me, with guns in my hands and gore under my boots. I grew up with Matt. I was Matt first time, although he wasn't mine. But he didn't mind and so neither did I.

With Near it was different.

It was the first time I felt guilty, the first time I regretted not being a virgin. And I know it's absurd 'cause in the end it was a matter of blood and pain, our first time together, but I couldn't help it. 'Cause if I had been a virgin, we would been even, he wouldn't have the possibility to say that I was in advantage.

It was a Sunday. I remember it perfectly 'cause I was at the park with Matt and we used to go there only on Sundays, and the church bells were playing really high. It was a Sunday when I first realized that he had become like a drug. Although months had passed, I still traced with my fingers along imaginary scars.

Then there was our second time. It was early in the morning. I had been out all night long, not wanting to go back home and I had had this stupid idea to call him.

I had counted the "tu-tu-tu" of the ring tone like a freaking teenager.

His voice came like a finger caressing the rim of a crystal glass. I just said " Do I have to break in or are you going to open the door?". "I'll open", was all he said.

It was awkward to stand in front of him, after months of stubbornness and wet dreams. He shifted his weight from left to right and then back left. The thought that it was the first time I had seen him standing for so long made me smile. He smiled back. And then something struck me, 'cause, you know, my first love had never smiled like that. And it was as if the last piece of one of those blank puzzles was put in its place.

I hugged him, and slowly guided him till his back was lying on the floor. Without saying anything.

I began to unbutton his pyjama but he stopped me. I think he saw my expression, which probably was screaming " FuckNearwhatkindofgeniusareyou!Icantholdbackanymore!", 'cause he grinned and then lifted the shirt over his head and abandoned it on the floor. He was so little underneath me, his skin was absolutely white and smooth. I let my hand press over it. He brought up his hand, pressed it behind my neck and forced me down. Near's kisses were…sweet. And they were the only thing you could tell he was not sure how to do. I licked his lower lip and he opened his mouth. I remember my heart jolted as I felt his warmth and as I realized I wanted him so bad.

He shyly pulled down my trousers. I kicked them away and they landed over one of his dice towers. It collapsed under them, I looked at him and he chuckled. I just looked into his eyes and he nodded. I was grateful, I am grateful, 'cause I didn't have to ask. He didn't tense up when I entered him, he just watched my face become redder and he embraced me tight. I felt like I was about to cry. I tried to say something along the lines of "N-Near I" but he kissed me again and bucked up against me. I could feel my entire body sink and every thing around us went black. There were just me and him, among his toys. When I thrust into him he moaned my name and it was the most mind-blowing experience I'd ever had. I thought that for once, for once I didn't have to hold back.

My rosary continued to swing between our bodies.

His moans and mine resonated among the screens.

We remained there, on the floor, my arm under his neck, his fingers running over my scarred side. It was so intimate that had anyone seen us that way they would have been surprised, but in the end it was our being out of place that stuck us together in the first place.

He dropped a kiss on my cheek, I continued to caress his hair.

 

Now that I'm sitting here, in this hole full of paper and cigarettes, trying to plan this crap out, I think about that second and last time together, even though I shouldn't. He didn't say "don't go", and actually I didn't want him to say that, 'cause if he had, God knows that I would have remained there. And as I draw red lines over the map I wish he could be here and kissed me again, and moan my name again, one last time.


End file.
